Tink. Tink. Tink. Tink. Tink.
Seven o' clock and already tinkering away at that Sentry. Whoever said Texans never woke up before noon was sadly mistaken when taking Dell Conagher into consideration. Content as a lark chittering away in her nest, he set to work: Dell tightened the base, made sure the hydrolics were working correctly, meticulously counted out every bullet in the bandoliers feeding into the guns, double-checked the rockets poised to fire as well as the reserves, and recalibrated the connection between his trusty Wrangler and beloved Sentry, testing it out on a squirrel that happened to cross his path.
Instantly, the rodent became merely a splotch on the dusty ground.
Dell performed a little jig and disconnected the tether, satisfied with its performance, and replaced the spent ammunition before leaving it on autopilot. Slowly the Sentry swiveled on its base; he liked to think it had a mind of its own, more reliable than any of his other teammates, obedient to Dell and only Dell and good at its job. The characteristic soft beeps were always so soothing to him- the Sentry's own way of reporting all was well to its creator. It brought back happy memories of 'lil 'ol Bee Cave, of his family and whatnot. God, he missed them all. Aunt Bertha, Granny Harriot-
Lost in his reverie, the hand on his shoulder caused him to jump and stumble backwards. He quickly pressed his back against the wall - a good Spy deterrent, Medic had been so kind to inform him - only to find the very same breed of Frenchman looking at him with head tilted slightly to the side. The Engineer relaxed only slightly. "I suppose zis is how men greet one another in Texas?"
"Spah. Dammit, Spah," the Engineer sighed, peeling himself away from the wall and folding his wrench across his chest, "darn near gave me a heart attack!"
"We Spies strive for only ze best." Spy pulled out a slender silver case, flipped it open, and withdrew a cigarette, packing the tobacco against the outside of it. "You do realize that we do not fight for some time. Ceasefire does not end until noon, and I am getting quite tired of having to hear Scout whine over how early you start working on that weapon of yours." The cigarette was placed between his lips, lit, drawn upon and the smoke exhaled so fludily that Dell wasn't sure if he'd even seen it all happen. "Perhaps you could start a tad later?"
The Texan bent back down to his Dispenser. His large, calloused hands worked mechanically on the innards of the equipment, placing wires here and tightening screws there without even having to look. He sighed. "You never know, on the field an' what not. Plus, this here field ain't exactly set up for guys like me. A Spah such as yourself might come along and sap my baby-"
The Spy cleared his throat before the Engineer could catch himself. "Your... baby?"
Damn. "W-well, ya' gotta' take a likin' to somethin' out here, otherwise ya' go crazy! And since none a'ya' are particularly the friendly kind, I'd say mah Sentry is the closest thing I got to someone... close." He felt the Spy's hand decend on his shoulder once more. The grip was tender, yet firm. He looked up to see the Spy's normally steely gaze soft and warm. A disarming sight indeed.
"I understand your need for companionship, mon ami," Spy murmured. "It isn't all - how you say - entertainment and merriment, being a Spy. We do get lonely as well, from time to time." Dell felt Spy squeeze his shoulder longingly.
"It's 'fun an' games', Spah. Look," he shook his head, reaching under his helmet and rubbing his forehead, "I understand if you're gay n'all, but I ain't interested in men. Sorry to disappoint."
"I am not hitting on you, laborer." The quick retort dripped with contempt. His hand snapped away from the shoulder as if Dell had informed him that he had the plague, wiping it dismissively against his suit. "I am making... conversation, is all. Unless your little contraption here can speak as well."
The Engineer grunted in response.
"Tell me, dear Sentry, what is your name?"
Dell could hear him inspecting it, prodding it, violating his darling with a soft scrape of leather gloves.
"Or, perhaps, you are a girl? Shall I get you a dress? I am sure I can find one somewhere in ze base. Pink would look rather good on her, don't you think, Engineer?"
"Dagnabbit, that does it!" The Engineer turned and swung at the Frenchman. Despite being short and stocky, it was a surprise to most that he could move with the alacrity that he did. However, the Spy, being quicker than the Texan himself and always on edge, easily sidestepped the wrench, and, smiling, took the tool from the man at the flick of a wrist. That left Dell confused, and it took him a few seconds to actually realize what had happened.
The Spy turned the metal over and over in his slender fingers. Dell's agitation only seemed to encourage such behavior. "Why you Engineers use such primitive tools I will never know." He tossed the wrench back to Dell, who caught it expertly- and proceeded to swing at Spy again, only to have the target leap to the other side and fell the Engineer using his own momentum. The Spy laughed, that haughty, throaty laugh peppered with slight snorts that made Dell grit his teeth, despite the grit and sand currently in it. "It was a good attempt, at least."
Before Dell could turn to reply (with another hit, no less) the Spy was gone. Probably cloaked, bored of this commoner.
He got up and dusted himself off, pausing for a while to see if Spy had really left. Once satisfied that all was still, he returned his attention to his Dispenser, frowning while connecting the healing apparatus to the gauge on the front. "Damned Spah." It would have been nice to have someone to talk to at least, even if it was just Spy.
A distinct woosh caught his ears over the purr of his gun and dispenser. Those talented enough could always hear the de-cloaking of a Spy, though it did take some practice and a couple backstabs to do it; that was probably why Scout was such an easy target for them, so impatient, yet still believing he was still in the realm of reason for complaining about not having such an ability.
"Ah, Spah. I didn't think you'd come back. I'm sorry I tried to hit you- it's just, you were kinda botherin' me-"
The all too familiar sound of a Sentry Gun's failure rang in his ears. It sounded like a flatlining patient, the same sort of emotional tug being carried with it as between two family members. The Engineer whipped around only to see a square contraption emitting sparks from two wires attached to the base. He growled, reached for the gun- and was met with nothingness as his beloved mechanism burst into numerous pieces. Too slow. God, it was like he'd been shot in the heart with an arrow- and not cupid kind, either, the BLU team kind.
"Damned Spah, it's too early to be sappin' mah Sentries!"